


Departure

by levrispero



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pre-Red Plague (The Arcana), Red Plague (The Arcana), mean!asra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23412778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levrispero/pseuds/levrispero
Summary: The magician Rashdea can't stand to sit idly by while Vesuvia falls to the Red Plague. She seeks out a Doctor Julian Devorak, determined to help, but Asra is not a fan of that decision.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	Departure

**Author's Note:**

> My take on the pre-plague catalyst for Asra's departure, featuring my apprentice Rashdea (Rah-sh-day). She's a sarcastic glassblower with a stubborn streak. If it's interesting to y'all, I might expand it into more chapters and get a little racy. We're in a plague of our own, so I'd like to be sensitive of that, but I also have a new abundance of free time.

Rashdea glanced up at the sign on the borderline dilapidated building. This was it. She let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding and firmly rapped her knuckles on the rough wood of the entry three times. 

No response. 

She knocked again, more insistently. There was no noise inside to suggest the occupant was home at all, let alone moving towards the door. It was a long trek all the way across town though, and she couldn’t bear the thought of shuffling back to the shop with a phony reason for being gone. If she was going to have this conversation with Asra, she wanted to have it once. They’d danced around the topic of the plague, but it was a topic of contention. Most days it was a very small, cat-sized elephant in the room, but it couldn’t be ignored any longer.

Raising her hand one last time, she practically pounded her fist against the door. Maybe the good doctor wasn’t in after all. However, a moment later she heard the muffled clatter of a chair, a curse, and a call of ‘Coming!!’ The door creaked partially open, the doctor peering out into the mid-morning light. After confirming it wasn’t a guard tracking him down for being drunk and disorderly, he opened it all the way.

“Good morning Doctor Devorak, I’m uh, very sorry to disturb you at this hour,” Rashdea winced. She’d clearly woken him up. The wild auburn curls atop his head were uncombed and there were deep indentations in his cheek from the fabric of his sleeve. Julian rubbed the dark circles from his bleary eyes. It was early, for a night owl. Judging by the sun it was pushing ten o’clock. For most of the city this would be late in the day, but those people were in bed long before three… four? He shuddered to think what time he had passed out on top of his papers.

“Can I help you? Wait, is someone in your household affected?” He recoiled from the entrance, suddenly remembering the proper protocol. His silver eyes bore into hers, looking for telltale hints of red. Some in the city didn’t yet appreciate the gravity of the situation; including the reigning count, but that didn’t mean he would be taking chances. Rashdea shook her head emphatically.

“No, not at all. Actually, I haven’t come for your services. I’ve come to offer mine.” She stood up straighter, drawing up to full height and trying to portray any confidence she might lack. “I want to aid in your research to find a cure for the plague.”

Doctor Devorak surveyed her carefully. There was something about her he immediately liked, though he couldn’t place what it was. Glancing over her form, her posture conveyed physical strength and steely resolve. Necessary qualities for a job like this. His attention was drawn back up to her chest. Not in a lecherous way, but by the strange crystal-amulet-doodad that hung from her neck. The doctor stifled a groan. She’s another hippie peddling snake oil.

“Please don’t take this the wrong way, Miss ah…”

“Rashdea Koiva,” she supplied, already preparing herself for the criticism of her ability as a woman. Vesuvian society hadn’t entirely evolved beyond sexism, but she certainly had something to say to those who touted such opinions.

“Miss Koiva. It’s not that I don’t respect… I’m sure there’s…” She cut him off abruptly. “If you’re suggesting that my womanly cycle is going to get in the way of treatment or that I’d better see what my husband has to say about it, let me assure you that you’re mistaken.”

The doctor’s jaw dropped and his hands flew up in defense as though she were about to strike. “Nonononono. You misunderstand me. I fully respect your capabilities, but I’m a man of science. I’m not sure I require the help of your dark arts.” He punctuated ‘dark arts’ with finger quotes, smiling sheepishly. 

Rashdea couldn’t hold back an indignant snort. “Could I come in and discuss this further? My ‘dark arts’ could be of use to you.” She mimicked his gesture, unable to keep her scowl from fading into a smirk. He clearly didn’t trust her, but was so uncertain about the topic of magic it was almost comical. If the very mention of the subject could rattle him so, what would he do if he saw what she had prepared? “Consider it… research. A study in the improbable.”

‘Well… I suppose.’ He stepped aside reluctantly, allowing the woman to slip past him. Slippery things, magicians. In the time it took to shut the door, she was already examining his bookshelves, running a delicate finger on the dusty spines, and murmuring the titles under her breath. He sunk into his well-worn desk chair and rubbed his temples gingerly. It was far too early for Julian to handle this invasion of nonsense.

Rashdea turned at his uncomfortable cough and scampered over, plopping down on a spare stool. She smiled, trying to lighten the mood. More flies with honey and all that. “Magic isn’t all hexes and hocus pocus you know. I come from a long, long line of magicians, many of whom were healers. I’ve been studying generations of research all of my life, just like you.” She watched his face carefully. His lips were still pressed tightly together; his expressive brows furrowed. She’d have to try harder than that. 

“Let me show you something.” Before he could protest, she blew softly and the candle on his desk glowed to life. His eyes widened, but she took the opening to keep up the demonstration. That was child’s play, time for the real fun to begin. Rashdea reached into her satchel and removed a small pouch. Pouring the powdery contents into her hands, she rubbed her palms together as though warming them. They began to glow faintly, growing brighter as she stood up to make room. With an equally gentle breath, she began to blow into the joint of her thumbs, the light growing ever brighter as the air stoked the magical embers. Though Julian wouldn’t admit it, it wasn’t just scientific curiosity keeping his eyes on the performance.

Slowly, her palms began to part, starting from the pinkies. A molten form was beginning to appear. Rashdea’s ministrations slowed, more consciously shaping the object. Her fingernails dug in, adding a few intricate striations. Satisfied, she removed her hands from her mouth and grinned proudly. In her outstretched palm was a small glass vial, slowly cooling from a vibrant orange to a soft cerulean.

“I’ve got to admit, that’s quite the party trick…” Doctor Devorak crooned, trying to keep up his façade of composure. Before she could stop him, he reached out a shaking hand to touch the bottle. Rashdea gasped at his yelp of pain.

“Sorry! It’s um, still hot…” She muttered, setting the vial onto the desk where it left a slight black burn in the shape of the base. She took his smarting fingertips gingerly into her hand. “May I?” They locked eyes. Though his watered slightly, she was surprised to see hints of trust. Maybe even respect. With a delicate touch, she pushed cool magic through her fingertips into his, stopping the burn from spreading. 

“You’ll want to follow this with one of your very official burn creams, if you don’t trust the poultice I could make you…” Rashdea trailed off with a smirk. There was no bite to her words. “I like doing things like this, making glass objects that can be useful and pleasing to the eye. But I can also make elixirs, potions, or help with symptoms. What I can’t do is just sit by and watch this unfold. Look, I… I’m not saying you have to trust my methods, please just accept the extra pair of hands and keep an open mind?”

The doctor returned her smile. This magician wasn’t going to take no for an answer, was she? And he could use the extra help around the office.

“I suppose you could start by making glass vials for the leeches and blood samples. I have to admit, you’ve got style,” Julian said with a genuine laugh. He pulled his hand out of hers; both blushing as they realized it was still in her grasp. “Miss Koiva, welcome to the team.”

“Please, call me Rashdea.”

“Julian.” His smile turned to a flirty grin. “So, no husband, eh?”

Rashdea practically floated out of the office. She was doing it; she was going to help save the city she loved! She couldn’t stifle the skip in her step until she reached the outskirts of the market district, the outskirts of reality. Asra might not be as pleased. She made a quick turn down an alley, and another, winding her way through the streets until the scent of fresh baked bread caught her nose. A good note for Julian tomorrow, pumpkin bread was the perfect cure for any ailment!

Sidling up to the counter, she watched Selasi knead the dough with expert movements. That batch would need to rise for at least another hour before baking. Fortunately, by the overwhelming aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cardamom, there was also a batch ready for the eating. The baker brushed a cloud of flour off his hands before coming over with a familiar broad smile.

“G’Morning Rashdea! Go through that whole basket already?” Selasi boomed cheerfully. “Asra came by just an hour ago, that’s fast even for you two!” He punctuated the sentence with a wink. Rashdea blushed.

“Hi Selasi! I guess Asra and I had the same idea! I will take two loaves though, who knows how many he ate without me.” She smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. There goes buying his approval. The baker returned from the cooling rack with two piping hot loaves wrapped in a cloth to carry them home. Rashdea handed over a few gold coins and waved goodbye, nerves bubbling in her stomach. Gods, she hated confrontation.

The journey to the shop seemed to pass by in a flash. Before she knew it she was on the doorstep, composing herself for the second time that day. “I’m home!” She called out cheerfully, stepping inside. Asra poked his fluffy white head out from the back room’s heavy curtain. 

“Rashdea! Where have you been all morning?” He emerged, smiling the soft, sweet smile she loved. Rashdea’s stomach flipped. “Is that Selasi’s handiwork I smell?” As she started to hang up her wrap and bag, he wound his arms around her midsection, gently pulling her back into his chest. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of her head and she sighed, relaxing back into him. Heaven.

“It is, he seems to think we had gone through your whole basket already! I would be offended, if we hadn’t done it before,” Rashdea laughed, spinning around to give him a proper hug. She wanted to nuzzle her face into his neck and hide there for the foreseeable future. Instead, she leaned in, lining up their features forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose. 

“But actually, I was also on an errand of my own. Let’s have some pumpkin bread and I’ll tell you about it?” Asra tilted his head so his lips ghosted over hers, his warm breath tickling her cheek. She let out a soft giggle, not in the mood for teasing today. She closed the microscopic gap between them and could feel the rumble of Asra’s answering chuckle through the kiss. It was short and sweet, but left her breathless all the same. 

“Sounds mysterious, my love. Let’s go eat while it’s warm."

Once the stove salamander had been roused, Asra took his spot at their table. The tea would be ready shortly, but they couldn’t restrain themselves from the tantalizing scent any longer. Asra eagerly tore into the warm treat, steam curling around his fingers. His eyes rolled back with a happy sigh. 

“So, my secret errand.” Rashdea knew the pumpkin bliss would have to end sometime. Asra’s violet eyes glanced over to meet hers. His bright gaze became neutral, like a mask. He could sense her anxiety. “I went to see that doctor from Nevivon, you know, the one doing research on the plague? I um… I offered to help him search for a cure, make vials for blood samples, things like that, and he accepted.” She forced a wide smile, hoping he would share her enthusiasm.

“What... Rashdea. We’ve talked about this; it’s too dangerous!” Asra’s tone was strained, trying to stay light, but failing miserably. His purple eyes darkened, bread forgotten on the table.

“Asra, I told you. I won’t sit by and watch as our city suffers.” Her face began to turn red with embarrassment and growing anger.

“And I agreed, we shouldn’t sit here and watch. We need to get out of here, go to Nopal, Prakra, anywhere else! I understood when you said you didn’t want to leave Vesuvia yet, but I didn’t think that would mean you’d infect yourself on purpose!” There was a growing edge to his voice that Rashdea had never heard before, and a slight raise in volume.

“I could help people! I-we have a duty to try, Asra!” He stood up sharply at that, chair scraping the floor, with a look like he had been slapped in the face.

“I can’t sit here and listen to this Rashdea, I’m trying to protect you! At least research from a safe place instead of getting mixed up with this fool!”

“Julian’s a great doctor, I really think if the three of us put our heads together-“ Asra cut off her desperate plea. “Oh! Julian. Well if the great Julian says so it must be true!” The bite of his words cut her to the bone. “Who knows what crazy archaic methods he’s dug up out of desperation? Bloodletting certainly isn’t going to help the spread of a disease! Or what, he’d like you to do some silly little blood magic to make it all go away?”

“Oh come on Asra! You actually think I’m stupid enough to try fucking blood magic?!” Rashdea snapped. Only villains and fools tried to use blood magic. It was a low blow and they both knew it.

“Who knows; you’re clearly not seeing sense! From one chat you seem confident he knows best. You trust this stranger with your life, but you won’t trust me.”

“Asra. You know that’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?”

Asra’s icy reply hung in the air with excruciating tension. Rashdea’s jaw clenched, fighting back the tears that accompanied her frustration, determined not to let him see her cry. She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, voice at once dangerously quiet.

“You really won’t leave with me?” His eyes flashed, on the brink of tears as well.

“I can’t, Asra.”

“…Fine. I won’t stick around to watch this happen. Stay here and die.” Asra stormed out of the room and down the stairs, his exit punctuated by the sound of the door slamming shut with such force the whole shop shook.

Rashdea sat frozen, staring blankly at the vacant space his vibrant aura left behind until it fully faded. Only then did she crumple, head falling into her arms on the tabletop and sobs racking her chest.

The teakettle began to sing.


End file.
